Baylor Commencement Address -- August 2016

Paul uses athletic metaphors to talk about the Christian life. Metaphors often break down if they are applied literally. He does not intend to compare the Christian life to competitive sport in the sense that one aims to outperform others to the point that they endure the shame of defeat. Nor does he want to reduce the Christian life to the lone athlete training, struggling by himself or herself in order to obtain some first-place prize.

He makes two points. Simply entering a race and running does not automatically qualify you as a winner. The Christian life is not a cake walk. You can't coast. Like the athlete who goes through rigorous training, the follower of Christ must undergo strenuous discipline, exercise self-control, and develop the strength, the grit, the tenacity to reach the ultimate goal.

And then he also make the point, because if you know at the famous Isthmian games that were hosted by Corinth, the winners did not receive a gold, or silver, or bronze medal, but a paltry crown of celery to commemorate their victory. The nature of the vegetation could vary, but it would wither and wilt into dried up flakes. And it was a deliberate reminder of how ephemeral athletic triumphs are. People would laud these heroes for awhile and then forget. Athletic triumphs do not last.

The point Paul makes is that Christians enter a race in which the prize is imperishable and eternal. If you would train this hard for a crown of celery, how much more should you knock yourself out for something of eternal worth? Athletic triumphs do not last.

I have not researched this carefully, but I believe that in your years at Baylor our athletic teams have had the best records on the field of any generation in the long Baylor line. We are committed to excellence in all that we do – in athletics, in academics, in research, and in teaching -- but the greatness of this university is not to be found in our athletic won-loss records, not to be found in our trophies, not to be found in our bowl wins, or even our beautiful facilities.

The greatness of this university is to be found in you, the soon-to-be graduates. It is to be found in the dedicated faculty. It is to be found in the devoted staff who do so much work behind the scenes. It is to be found in the dutiful alumni who have been successful in so many ways and stand for and with Baylor.

In Paul's metaphor, he talks about only one winner in the context. That might be true in the sports arena, but not in life, and certainly not today in this ceremony. I would submit to you that you are all winners.  The fact that, as soon as I shut up and you walk across this stage when your name is called, says something about you.

Everyone in the audience is focused on one (or maybe two or three) particular graduates, your shining stars. And you have been recognized as winners when you walk across this stage. Now one of you earned a 4.0 GPA. That is truly amazing. But we are here to celebrate every one of you. You made it. You are winners today.

And I suspect that, at some point in your Baylor career, you failed at something. The lights are out, and I don't think your parents can see; you can raise your hand. But here you are -- recognized as a winner. There are going to be people cheering for you, maybe even crying tears of joy. You do not have to be the winner to be a winner.

I do not know who won the 1986 New York City Marathon, the one who beat out almost 20,000 runners who entered that race. I do know the name of the guy who finished last: Bob Wieland. He finished 19,413th, and set a record. He completed the NYC Marathon in 4 days, 2 hours, 48 minutes and 17 seconds. It is the slowest marathon in history.

Why remember this? Because he lost both of his legs in Vietnam. And when he ran, he had to sit on a 20-pound saddle, and he covered his fists with pads, and he ran entirely with his arms. At his fastest, he could do maybe about one mile an hour, pushing his torso along with his arms. And at this pace, he finished four days after the start. Why bother to finish? Here's why: There is great reward in just finishing the course. He made it, and he's remembered as a winner.

Some of you have overcome incredible odds to get to this point. You finished this course in the race, but you can't rest on your laurels. You cannot hang up your diploma, beautifully framed, and any certificates or other awards you received, and sit back and wait for the world to come to you. You cannot congratulate yourself on running four laps well in a 60-lap race, in fact, a race that will not end until God calls you home.

I was in a meeting with some leaders of other universities not long ago when somebody said, "This is a Kodak moment." You have to be a certain age to understand what that metaphor means. During the last century, Kodak held a dominant position in the photographic film business. They had multiple commercials where they would show moments in life that cried out for a photograph for posterity, which they called "a Kodak moment."

But Kodak began to struggle financially in the 1990s as a result of the decline in sales of photographic film. Even though they first developed the digital camera in 1975, the company was too slow to change. They decided to drop that project because it would jeopardize their domination in the photographic film business. In January 2012, Kodak filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection.  

The people at Kodak could not imagine a world without traditional cameras and traditional film, so why change? And the phrase "Kodak moment" now applies to those moments when someone refuses to adapt, refuses to take advantage of opportunities, wants to maintain the status quo.

You are in a race, and the track is not like the one at beautiful Clyde Hart Stadium, a quarter-mile going around and around and around. It's more like Cameron Park, up and down steep hills, sudden turns, around Lover's Leap cliffs, no signs to tell you which way to go.

I hope that at Baylor you have learned some things for the next leg of your race. I hope you have learned how to discipline yourself to achieve your goals. I hope you have learned how to exercise self-control. I hope you've learned the strength, the grit, the tenacity to handle whatever life throws at you. I know there are some parents maybe worried about what you majored in; "Are you going to get a job in that major?" Well in a survey of employers, 93% said it didn't make any difference what you majored in; what they were concerned about was, are you able to think critically, are you able to communicate clearly, are you able to solve complex problems? I hope you've learned to think critically, to communicate clearly, and to solve complex problems, so that when you come to a Kodak opportunity it will not be a Kodak moment.

At commencement, it's traditional for commencement speakers to offer advice – bromides that are thrown out so you can play a game of "commencement bingo" when they say those magic phrases.

For example, they'll say, "Be your own person." Well I'd like to revise that, because we are all fallen creatures. I would say instead, "Strive to be more like Jesus."

They tell you to "Follow your own dreams." I would say "Follow God," and I promise you that God will take you to places and to persons you've never dreamed.

They tell you to "Make your own story." I would say "Become a part of God's story," because I promise you it's gonna end better in the long run.

They will tell you, when you fail, as we all do – when you fall – institutions, individuals, the commencement advice is "Get up, dust yourself off, and move on." But I would say that you need someone greater than you to pick you up. You need someone greater than you to dust you off. You need need someone greater than you who will take you through the times of failure. You need someone greater than you who will take you through the times of  embarrassment that are flashed across the airwaves. You need someone greater than you to take you through the times when death hits you in the gut. You need someone greater than you to lift you up and get back in the race and move on. You need someone greater than you to tell you that there are some races in life that are not worth running. You need someone greater than you to guide you on the right path.

In The Lord of the Rings, when Bilbo Baggins leaves the Shire and sets off to visit Rivendell, he sings a song.       (I will not sing it to you; I will repeat it.)

The road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the road has gone,
And I must follow if I can,
Pursuing it with weary feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then?
I cannot say.

I cannot tell you whither you will go when you leave this campus, or even if you stay on this campus to study further. But I can tell you of someone who said, "I am the way."

The greatness of this university comes from those graduates who have followed Him faithfully, come what may, who trust in His greatness, and seek to bring glory to Him and not to themselves.

May God bless you as you take the next leg of this journey.